Three Dates with Bruce Wayne
by Gravity. What Gravity
Summary: Clark was less offended than he should have been when Bruce immediately opened the passenger car door for him. Mostly he was just resisting the urge to bring his fingertips up to his cheek, and feel where Bruce's lips had brushed against his skin. Written for the Superbat Secret Santa, for a prompt involving asexual Clark.


The first date was nice.

Bruce had clearly thought it through. He hadn't taken Clark to some fancy restaurant, paying extortionate amounts of money just to ensure their privacy. He couldn't possibly take Clark to the kind of place he frequented, like the old diner around the corner of the daily planet, because paparazzi in Metropolis didn't care about Bruce Wayne's privacy. Instead, Bruce had invited him to dinner at Wayne Manor.

The place was still too grand, a far cry from Clark's country home, but it was lived in. Even in the kitchen, the evidence of the boys was obvious. A photo pinned on the fridge with a batman magnet, sugary cereals laid out on the countertops, an unwashed coffee mug in the sink. Little touches took the shine away from the place, made it feel real.

"Excuse the mess," Bruce called out, "I gave Alfred the night off." He was dressed casually, a simple shirt and slacks, but he still looked like he'd stepped of the page of GQ magazine.

He was out of his league with Bruce. There was no way he'd fit into his lifestyle. As superheroes, they were polar opposites, night and day. As civilians, they only came into contact on a rare day that Lois swindled him into doing a puff piece on billionaire Brucie Wayne. In any combination, there was no way that they could work, especially considering Bruce's reluctance to do anything that would endanger his identity.

Clark smiled, "You think this is bad? You should see my place."

* * *

"Definitely not a Kryptonian thing," Kara frowned, taking a sip of her drink, "Not that it's not not a kryptonian things, it's just not not a human thing either. I mean-"

"It's not exclusively Kryptonian."

"Exactly. Or any more common on Krypton."

Thing is –

Clark knew it. He'd checked the files he had, searched for any sign of discussion of sexuality. But Krypton was a science planet. Things considered to be social weren't exactly focused on in the archives of the planet. Kara was his only source for things like that.

But he'd really hoped.

Hope for something concrete and easy to explain to someone like-

"Hey," Kara placed her hand on his, smiled up at him reassuringly, "There's nothing wrong with you, Clark. You don't need to blame this on someone. Neither of us do."

His head whipped up meet her eyes, "Kara I didn't mean to imply anything about you being-"

"Aromantic. It's not the exact same thing but… I'm here for you."

* * *

The second date was a Chinese take-out at Clark's apartment.

It was a modest place, rented on a reporter's salary, but Bruce still seemed to just fit. Sat on the couch Clark had bought back when he first moved to Metropolis, eating chilli noodles off one of Ma's old plate set, Bruce looked so at home.

"You're staring, Clark," Bruce raised an eyebrow, expression just this side of smug.

Clark grinned, taking his place on the worn out couch, ignoring the way it protested under their combined weight. "Batman's in my living room. 'Think that gives me a pretty good reason to stare."

"I've been here plenty of times, Clark, in costume and out." Bruce grimaced, clearly remembering the less than ideal circumstances of their meeting.

"This is different." Because they weren't trying to kill (or at least maim) each other. Because Bruce was willing to come to Clark's city, Superman's city, regardless of the danger, just to see him.

Because when they looked eyes, Clark felt his heart speed up just a little, and heard the same thing in Bruce's.

* * *

"Why do I feel so guilty about this?"

Lois looked up at him over her computer, a single eyebrows arching as she looked him up and down. He didn't blame her. He hadn't thought it was possible for Kryptonians to get bags under their eyes, but even Green Arrow had pulled him aside to ask what was wrong. Every league meeting he could feel Bruce's gaze on him, questioning.

"Because you're giant boy scout?" Lois gave him her sweetest smile, the kind that got her exclusive interviews and the best scoops. She dropped that act as he glared, "You've got nothing to be guilty about, Clark. Bruce's smart. He's not gonna let something as dumb as 'sexuality' get in the way of loving someone."

"Yeah, because Batman seems like the 'love no matter what' type."

"He came to Metropolis, right? That seems pretty out of character for someone he doesn't love."

She was right, of course. Bruce wouldn't risk his identity, his children's identity, if he didn't feel it was something worthwhile. That he was building the foundations for something more permanent. Still, this was Bruce wayne, billionaire playboy.

"Yeah but, Lois, he definitely likes," he lowered his voice, "sex."

She gave him her signature 'are you purposely being dumb or is just the world punishing me' look. "So? I do, too. That's not why we broke up. Besides, he also liked dressing up in leather and beating up Gotham crazies. You'll make it work."

* * *

Their third date was two months after their second.

"Clark if you don't want to do this I understand," Bruce has said.

"No, no! I've just been busy, that's all," Clark had replied, "But I'm free tonight?"

Later he wondered if that was his get out clause, the universe giving him an easy out. Or if maybe Bruce had figured it out, was just giving him a way out to spare them both the embarrassment of a messy and awkward break up. There was certain expectations about a third date, and they'd barely even kissed.

Don't be ridiculous, Kent, he scolded himself as Bruce pulled up in one his tamer choices of vehicle (still more than Clark could afford in a year). He didn't want to be here, he wouldn't. He's Batman.

"Hi." Smooth.

Bruce shot him a disarming smile, the kind that got his picture on the front page of the Gotham Gazette, as he stepped out of the car to press a light kiss on Clark's cheek. "Hi."

Clark was less offended than he should have been when Bruce immediately opened the passenger car door for him. Mostly he was just resisting the urge to bring his fingertips up to his cheek, and feel where Bruce's lips had brushed against his skin.

"So I heard you like Star Wars," Bruce said, climbing into the car.

Clark was worried about a lot of things. Saving the world from the next threat from Lex Luthor was always pretty high up on his list. Making sure Ma and Pa had enough money and resources to get through the winter was up there too. Telling Bruce he was asexual had been a concern for a few months, now. But driving to a movie theatre with Bruce, hearing his small chuckles as Clark rambled on about the old movie marathons he used to have with his parents, the biggest worry he had was how exactly Bruce got them tickets to see a movie that was only released in a week.

* * *

James Olsen hadn't changed much since moving to National City. He was still Superman's ally and, more importantly, Clark Kent's friend. The physical distance, and James's newfound friendship with Kara, hadn't changed that.

He sure as hell didn't seem so nosey back in Metropolis, though.

"So what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Probably going back to Smallville. I only came back after Thanksgiving to get back to work and make sure I see all the family between the holidays," Clark replied.

James smiled, "Yeah, but from what Kara said you're not just looking to spend time with family."

Clark frowned, Kara wouldn't have told him everything-

"No need to look so worried, man," James clasped him on the shoulder, "She just said there's someone new in your life."

The smug look he gave told Clark exactly what Kara had told him. "It's complicated," Clark sighed.

"Everything's complicated. You and your cousin? You guys fly, that's pretty complicated. The Lane's Dad is an overbearing military man who wants to weaponise you both. I'd say that's even worse."

* * *

They're not technically on a date when Clark tells him.

There was an emergency in Gotham, a rare occasion that required Superman's help. Clark stuck around after, watched Dick tease Damian about a friend of his, (Matt? Maps?) as they left the cave. He'd stared at Bruce for a while, trying not to be too obvious about it, while he considered leaving. Bruce liked to keep his work and personal life separate, right? Besides, his kids were just upstairs. Bruce wouldn't have told them about this. Would he?

He turned around to leave, when Bruce called him back, "You coming upstairs?"

Clark looked down, "Just give me a second to get changed."

By the time he returned, Bruce was stood in his study, out of the batsuit but looking no less impressive for it. When Clark entered he looked up, lighting up at the sight of him.

"You've not seen pictures of me as a child, have you?"

"Besides the obvious," Clark nodded towards a picture on his desk of young Bruce with Alfred and a young girl with curly hair and killer smile, "No."

Bruce handed him a picture in an ornate frame. It was a formal family Christmas portrait, the kind Ma always tried to take when he was a kid. All of the Wayne family were shown, including what seemed to be extended family, too. A young Bruce Wayne sat on his mother's knee, tiny hands squeezing her fingers.

Bruce looked at the photo with melancholy in his eyes. He pointed to a little girl in a puffy red dress sitting next to him, "That's Kate."

"Batwoman?"

"Yeah. Mom used to get this photo out every Christmas, tell me what a pain I was that day. Kate kept telling me to be quiet." Looking closer, Clark could see little Bruce's face was splodged with red.

"I-" he looked up to see Bruce's eyes on him. It hit him, that second, what exactly this meant. Aside from the pictures in his study, Bruce rarely showed his family memories to anyone. Clark's words caught in his throat, just for a moment. He felt an overriding guilt, that Bruce, who held his cards so close to his chest, would share these things with him while Clark hid from him.

"I'm asexual." Ahh. That wasn't what he meant to do.

Bruce look at him with shock in his eyes, then confusion.

"It's-"

"I know what it is, Clark."

The finality of it felt like a hot knife through Clark's chest, a pit opening up in his stomach. Squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment, unable to bare Bruce's gaze.

"Okay. Okay. That's good. I'll just be-" Bruce grabbed his hand, holding tight as his human grip would allow on kryptonian skin.

"Clark where are you-" He swallowed, cleared his throat, "Please don't leave."

"Bruce, I can't stay. I'm not going to change." Clark felt something break, deep inside of him, as he spoke.

"I'm not asking you to." Bruce's voice was nothing but patient, the desperation from before softened into comfort.

"Bruce you don't understand." He couldn't, if he wanted him here.

"You don't experience sexual attraction towards others. Clark, that doesn't matter to me."

Clark looked into his eyes, at how soft and warm they seemed at that moment. He could get away, leave the manor. Nothing Bruce could do would stop him. At league meeting he'd be civil but cold. Bruce couldn't possibly mean what he said, not in the long run. It'd happened before, people thought they could handle giving up something so important to their romantic relationships, to showing love to others.

He stayed.

"Bruce you can say that now, but what about the next Wayne Enterprise charity function."

"Clark, it's not some kind of hardship. It's different, sure, but I," he cut himself off, the calm in his voice replaced by something new, "Come here."

Bruce pulled Clark into a hug, and Clark let himself be hugged.

Bruce spoke into his shoulder, "Is this okay? Is… Have I done anything that's too far?"

Clark closed his eyes, pressed his nose into Bruce's neck and took a shaky breath.

It was going to be hard. Even Bruce had admitted that. But here, clinging to Bruce in his study, surrounded by his scent, feeling the vibrations on his throat as he spoke, Clark was content. If this was what he felt, for the rest of his life, he'd die happy. He trusted Bruce, with his identity, with his family, with his life. He could trust that Bruce was content with this, too.

"No. You've been perfect."


End file.
